


My Winterstorm

by LLofAsgard



Category: The Avengers (2012), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Always A Girl!Loki, Gen, Genderbending, Jotun!Loki, Lady Loki, Loki Odinsdóttir, Odin's A+ Parenting, Rule 63, Spoiler alert: Thorki will not happen.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-24
Updated: 2014-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-06 08:27:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 13,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/733597
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLofAsgard/pseuds/LLofAsgard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Controlled by the Chitauri, Loki Odinsdóttir attempted to conquer Midgard, and failed horribly. Taken back to Asgard and thrown into a cell, stripped of her powers, it is only a matter of time until she escapes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! I decided to take a break from fem!Bruce and write some Lady!Loki instead. There are a few things I'd like to point out first:
> 
> -Loki was born female. So nope, she didn't steal Sif's body.  
> -This is based on the movies. There might be some myth thrown in, and very little, if any, comics info.  
> -Thorki is not going to happen. I apologize if that's what you were looking for, but I will not change my opinion.  
> -This is pretty much written as a backstory to my Lady Loki tumblr rp. At some point I might turn some of the threads I've written into fic as well.  
> -All Chitauri AND Thanos died from that missile. Why? Because I don't like them.
> 
> Alright, let's move on to the story! This isn't beta'd, so my apologies for the mistakes that are probably in there.

She had been fully aware of what she was doing.

There was a small voice in the back of her head, telling her what to do, advising, suggesting. Loki obeyed it without hesitation. The voice knew what it was talking about, always offering her solid reasoning to explain what it wanted her to do. It made sense, and she felt no need to worry about it. 

It had been her ever-present companion, right until the green beast grabbed her by the leg and violently smashed her against the hard concrete floor, again and again. She lay there for almost an hour, paralyzed while her broken bones healed themselves. When she finally felt like she could move again, she slowly sat up, groaning in pain. Loki felt their eyes on her, heard their breathing, and turned to face them, carefully masking the fear and confusion that was threatening to tear her apart from the inside.

"If it's all the same to you, I'll have that drink now."

 


	2. Chapter 2

It had all gone quickly after that. Fury had attached the special handcuffs and muzzle himself, while all of his so-called heroes were surrounding them, prepared to attack if she tried to do anything. The devices blocked her most valuable assets: her infamous silvertongue and her ability to teleport. She had been told that they were enchanted by earth's best sorcerer, a man who had introduced himself as Dr. Strange. He was sitting on a chair near her cage, carefully watching her, a somewhat thoughtful look on his face. Loki vaguely felt like she would meet him again, but didn't care enough to worry about it.

Next to the sorcerer was a bald man in a wheelchair. He hadn't told her his name, or what he could do, but she supposed he had some kind of special abilities as well, otherwise SHIELD wouldn't have let him watch her. She couldn't read anything from his face, and after staring intently for a while she had given up, and settled for staring at a particular crack in the wall behind her glass cage.

She was leaning against the far back wall, resisting the urge to curl up in one of the corners. Little as it was, she still had some of her dignity left and she was not going to give it up. To keep herself from either crying or screaming in rage and pain and fear she focused on her hatred. Hatred against Fury and his obnoxious agents. Hatred against her brother, against Odin, against every single mortal on this stupid realm. She hated the monsters that had forced her into this, boldly ignoring the fact that it was still mostly her own fault.

The Chitauri may have given her the scepter, the purpose, sweet little lies when they welcomed her into their realm and most of all, the voice that she had obeyed, but she had known what she was doing. Loki chose to follow the commands she received from the Chitauri, even though she supposed she might have been able to ignore them. Might. They would certainly have found another way to get the fallen princess of Asgard to do their dirty jobs for them.

Loki wasn't a warrior. She wasn't the kind of person who sent an army to take over a realm. Subtlety was more her style. Loki had always preferred tricks, magic and deception to actual fighting, much to Odin's chagrin. It was not the way a true Aesir was supposed to fight. Only a coward, a weakling would use trickery to defeat someone instead of bravely facing them in combat. Those words had stung, and she had briefly attempted to be the person she was expected to be. A brave warrior like Sif, or a true lady, like her mother. She gave up quickly, knowing she would never be either of those. Loki was a sorceress.

She stood there for hours, perhaps days, Loki wasn't sure, until they came back for her. Fury unlocked her cage, and she was quickly surrounded by agents who escorted her to a heavily secured vehicle. The sorcerer and wheelchair man, whom she had started to think of as her silent companions, stayed by her side, right until the moment she was handed over to the Avengers. Loki refused to look at any of them, instead staring at a building in the distance.

It wasn't until Thor held out the box that contained the Tesseract to her, urging her to place a hand on it before she finally looked up at him. In his eyes she saw anger, hurt, betrayal, sorrow and something else, something she couldn't quite recognize. She reluctantly raised her left hand to hold onto the small container, her mind filled with both fear and sorrow as she thought of having to face Frigga. She didn't care about Odin, or at least told herself she didn't, but Loki would never be able to stop loving her mother. She had disappointed her once again, but this time was so much worse than the others, and she wasn't sure if she could ever make up for what she had done.

Those were the last thoughts on her mind before they disappeared from Midgard, using the Tesseract to return to Asgard. _Home._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty much chapter 2 rewritten in Xavier POV. You can skip it if you want to, but it does provide more information as to what I imagine Loki's life having been like. I apologize for the lack of actual dialogue. I promise plenty of that will appear later.

He hadn't been allowed to talk to her. SHIELD had been very specific. He could only watch, and as soon as she figured out what he was doing, he would have to leave. Don't talk, don't let her know what you do. Easy as that.

So he sat, and watched. Watched the caged animal, the pacing tiger, restless and afraid. He saw her struggle to remember, and felt her pain, her rage and her fear when she finally did. He watched her as she cried, weeping tears of agony, revolted by what she'd become. He felt the heat of her burning hatred, directed at those who had turned her into this, into this monster. She hated every single human, every single Jotunn, and every single Aesir. But that emotion paled in comparison to the hatred she felt against herself.

To anyone else, Loki looked bored, indifferent, as if she couldn't care less about being captured, but he could see past all of it. He could see the memories, the pleasant ones and her dark secrets, both carefully buried away, but not safe from him.

It was painful to see, heartbreakingly so. He no longer saw the villain who had attempted to take over his planet, ending lives as if they were worthless. He saw the woman who liked to read, who spent most of her time at the library. He saw the girl who would run for her mother, proudly announcing that she had learned something, a new enchantment, or improved her shapeshifting skills.

He saw her being scolded over and over again. Though it was not forbidden, sorcery was frowned upon. A true Aesir was supposed to be a brave warrior, fearlessly defeating their enemies in combat. Lies, deception and trickery were skills reserved for weaklings, fools, cowards. Why wouldn't she attempt to be a true warrior, like Sif? Or if she didn't want to be a warrior, then be a lady, like your mother, Loki.

He saw the determined look on the young woman's face as she removed anything related to sorcery from her chambers. He saw her as she went to the training room, dressed in battle attire, and asked her brother and his friends to train her. Loki lost every single practice fight and by the end of the week she was all sore and bruised, but she didn't care. Someday she would be like them, brave warriors, and her father would be proud of her. It had taken only a year until Loki lost her patience and used a trick to finally win from Thor. He ran into the wall behind the duplicate she had created, and when he turned around he was just in time to see his sister throw her sword onto the floor and run away, silent tears running down her cheeks.

The next day she was wearing a long, elegant dress, instead of the armor. She was suspiciously quiet during breakfast, and later that day she asked Frigga to teach her how to be a lady. Frigga had hugged her, saying that she wouldn't have to change. But Loki insisted. Odin had given her two options and she had failed the first. So she learned to sew, to make small talk with other people, and to play various musical instruments.

It wasn't until she subconsciously began to enchant the needle and thread to do the boring work themselves that she realized that this wouldn't work either. The simple tasks and mundane conversations made her feel empty, and Loki just couldn't bear the thought of having to live like this for eternity. She didn't show up for lunch that day. Or for dinner. He saw her as she was hiding in a shadowed corner of the palace library, crying silent tears until she fell asleep.

It was late at night when she woke up to a hand on her shoulder. Her first reaction was to pull away, but then she saw it was Sif, and Loki completely broke down. When she was finally done rambling, crying and complaining, Sif adviced her to do what she wanted to do. Sif was born to be a lady as well, but wanted to be a warrior. She struggled to prove herself worthy, to prove that a woman could fight just as bravely as a man. And if she could do that, then why couldn't Loki prove that magic wasn't for cowards? That it was an amazing skill and would be very useful in combat?

The next day she wore one of the simple, more comfortable dresses that she had always liked to wear before her attempts to be what Odin wanted her to be. Everybody could see the difference. She no longer looked empty and miserable. And when Thor announced that he would hunt for Bilgesnipe that day, and asked her if she wanted to join him and his friends on that hunt, she agreed. Armed with only the daggers she always carried around, Loki fought like never before, cleverly using her tricks and enchantments to defeat the beasts, having the time of her life.

Her joy didn't last long though. The next memory he found was one of Odin scolding Loki once again. She dutifully listened, not objecting to anything he said. When he was done, she simply asked if there was anything else he wished to discuss, and if not, might she be excused?

That was the moment when Loki Odinsdottir became Loki, goddess of lies and mischief. _I do what I want._

* * *

Charles was so concentrated on Loki's memories that he didn't notice the guards approaching until they opened the heavy doors and entered the room. They opened the cage, and surrounded the sorceress, who just shrugged and patiently waited for orders. They escorted her away, and Charles followed when his temporary partner, Stephen Strange, rose from his seat to follow. Just as Strange had passed, a few agents turned, asking him to report to the director. Director Fury was in a conference room, watching the life feed from the car they used to transport Loki. His heroes, the Avengers, were all seated along the large table, waiting for him to speak.

He briefly studied each of them. The one who intrigued him the most was Thor, the god of thunder, and brother of Loki. He was concerned about his sister, feeling responsible for what she had done, thinking it was mostly his fault. If he had treated her differently while they were younger, it might not have ended this way.

"Know your place, sister." "Silvertongue turned to lead?" "Only a coward would use trickery in combat." What had once seemed to be harmless mockery, now sounded like cruel words, directed at someone he loved, who had started to believe them. A coward, a burden, a stolen relic. It pained him to see how horribly wrong it had all gone.

This would be his only chance to attempt to help the woman. So Charles asked him to sit down, and told the young god what he had seen. He kept the memories he'd seen to himself though. He was against such unnecessary violation on someone's privacy, and thought it would be better if Loki told Thor about those when, if ever, she felt ready to do so.


	4. Chapter 4

Their journey didn't take long. It was just enough for her to magically replace her armor with an old black dress that matched her mood. She would not be allowed to wear armor in prison anyway, so Loki thought she should at least pick her own outfit then.

Only seconds later she could feel solid ground under her feet again, but hardly had the time to examine the location, for she was immediately surrounded by heavily armed guards. Thor stayed by her side as the muzzle was removed, Mjolnir in hand, ready to lash out if Loki chose to fight them. But she didn't. Why would she?

Loki straightened, looking as arrogantly as she could as she marched towards the palace, not paying any attention to the guards. She had never liked palace guards, obnoxious fools that they were. The throne room was more crowded than she would have liked. Present were Frigga, Odin, the Warriors Three and Lady Sif. Even Heimdall had shortly taken a break from his duties to attend this event. It took her a while to understand why any of them, apart from her once-parents, would be there. _Why yes. The self-proclaimed victims of my previous attack._ She refused to look at any of them. _They wish to see me suffer, all of them. They would thoroughly celebrate my defeat, filthy traitors that they are. I cannot believe I once made the mistake to trust them._

Loki barely kept herself from screaming her insults at them, from snarling and hissing until she completely lost her voice. Many centuries of suppressing her emotions for the greater good allowed her to keep her arrogant expression in place. They didn't deserve to see her break down.

After everyone respectfully knelt for the All-Father with their right fist on their heart (while Loki just crossed her arms and glared), Thor began to speak.

“Father, mother, there are a few matters that need be discussed. It is most urgent.”

Loki turned to look at him, eyebrows raised just a little. What could possibly be so important that it couldn't wait until after she was sentenced to death or whatever punishment she would receive?

* * *

 

It had been at least half an hour ago since Odin, Frigga and Thor had left to discuss whatever Thor deemed so important. Loki was growing more and more anxious by the minute. She fiddled with the long sleeves of her dress, unable to keep her hands still. It was better than the alternative, which would be to lose it completely and attempt to burn the building down.

Then finally, finally, they returned. Loki couldn't tell for sure from such a distance but the All-father looked less cold and angered than before, while she could tell from the faint redness around her mother's eyes that she had been crying. _Odd._

“Loki Laufeysdóttir, for...” he never got to finish his sentence. To hear him refer to her by that name was too much, and Loki just snapped. A dark green energy gathered around her as she shrieked in rage and fired random bolts of magic at the guards surrounding her, forcefully knocking them out of her way as she ran towards the throne, her voice reduced to a set of feral snarls.

She didn't make it far. Within seconds strong hands grabbed her arms, attempting to hold her back. Loki screamed every insult she could think of, the green energy swirling around her as she desperately tried to break free, but it was of no avail. Thor had always been stronger than her, and without her tricks, lies and magic she stood no chance against him. Nevertheless she continued to fight, barely hearing Odin's words over the sound of her own rage.

“...many have died at your hand...”

Loki smashed the back of her head into her brother's face, ignoring the sharp pain it caused her.

“Sentenced to prison...”

Thor's grip weakened for just a second, and she managed to yank one of her hands away, preparing for another spell.

“And in addition...”

She viciously clawed at his arm as he tried to grab her hand before she could cause any more damage.

“...a restriction to be placed upon your powers...”

Loki was about to blast the bolt of energy at Thor, lips curling up into a malicious grin when Odin firmly planted Gungnir against the ground, the sound of it echoing through the large room. Her smile turned into an expression of pure horror and panic as the radiant energy disappeared, leaving her completely defenseless. She shook her head, unwilling to believe it.

“No...n-n-no no NO!” Panic overtook her, and she could hardly see through the tears that were threatening to fall. She struggled once more, but then gave up, like an extinguished flame, the raging fires of hatred and anger finally replaced by sorrow and fear.

She glared at them long after the guards had dragged her out of the throne room, off to whatever dungeons they were about to throw her into.

Loki was harshly pushed into a cold, dark cell, stumbling once before crashing against the floor. She could hear the doors being closed and locked, as if she had any chance of breaking out in this state. She crawled over to a corner and finally burst into tears, crying until there were no tears left to spill. It was only then that she became more aware of her surroundings. It was completely dark, a single torch on the other side of her cell being the only source of light. The floor and walls were made of the same smooth stone, cold to the touch and plain.

The only object in the room was an old, dirty blanket, and Loki decided she would rather freeze to death than use it. But when she finally looked down at her own hands, she realized that that would be impossible for her; the cruel cold had turned her pale skin into a dark shade of blue. Oddly enough she no longer panicked at the sight. Her emotional outburst had left her drained and exhausted. She felt detached from herself, as if she was looking at someone else's hands. They didn't belong to her. They were the hands of Loki Laufeysdóttir.

But if she was neither Laufeysdóttir nor Odinsdóttir, then who was she?

_Who am I?_


	5. Chapter 5

Einnar, a young guard that had finished his training only decades ago, had been among the lukcy men assigned to guarding the dungeons that held the fallen princess of Asgard. On the tray he carried was a small plate filled with plain, tasteless food and a glass of water.

When he arrived at the cell, he almost thought she had managed to escape, until he noticed her small form in one of the darkest corners. The shadows, her black garments and dark hair hid her well enough. Einnar stomped a little while walking, making a bit of noise in order to gain her attention. Nothing. He coughed, trying again. This appeared to be more successfull. The princess slowly turned her head to look at him, and what he saw made him drop the tray. His own brown eyes were met by the blood-red eyes of a monster, the kind of monster he had heard so many tales of.

_Jotunn._

~~~

“You have a visitor,” Einnar announced as he and five other guards approached the blue princess. It had been four months since he had first seen her like this, and he no longer flinched from the sight of her blue skin and red eyes. If Loki's Jotunn form disgusted them, he hid it well enough.

She didn't bother looking up, didn't acknowledge their presence at all. She didn't even move, not until he grew impatient and grabbed her arm in order to pull her up from the floor. The prince wished to visit his adoptive sister, and he wasn't particularly fond of waiting.

As they walked through through the dungeon halls and up a set of stairs, Loki's appearance gradually changed back into the Aesir form she had used almost her entire existence. Green replaced red, and a more common skin tone, although very pale replaced the blue.

The six guards bowed respectfully for the prince, the Odinson, temporarily letting go of the prisoner.

“Rise,” was his reply, and they did. Einnar and another guard of his age both took one of Loki's arms and dragged her towards one of the wooden chairs. They had learned soon enough that while she did cooperate when they brought her there, she would refuse to move at all when near the Odinson. They would find her standing in the exact same spot and in the exact same stance as they left her when they were called to bring her back to her cell. The Odinson appeared to prefer it if they would leave her in one of the chairs, so he could sit down as well and at least pretend to have a normal conversation.

“We will be waiting outside, sire.” They bowed again, and left the room. The guards would stand right next to the door, ready to storm in if the princess would try to attack or escape.

~~~

She was nothing but a ghost. A ghost of the person she once was. He visited her at least once a week, even though it only made him miserable.

“I brought you this from your chambers,” Thor spoke after a moment of silence. He placed the soft green cloak on the table in front of her, hoping she would just take the garment. He had heard of how cold it could be in the dungeons, and still did not want her to suffer any more than necessary.

_Silence._

“Volstagg has asked Gunnar for his daughter's hand,” he tried again, in another attempt to get his sister to talk to him. “Sadly, his offer has been declined. I am fairly certain he only refused because Svannhilder stubbornly refused to eat or rest until he did so. She's not quite unlike you, sister. Do you remember the archery training you both attended?”

_Silence._

“Loki...”

_Silence._

Thor made a few more attempts at engaging in conversation until he gave up. Every visit was exactly the same. He occasionally brought her something, which she refused to take. He would tell her of life outside of the palace and ask her simple questions, which she didn't answer to. Loki wouldn't talk to him, wouldn't even move unless it was to walk out of the visiting room when the guards returned to take her back to her cell. It was like visiting a statue.

With a sigh he stood, and quietly called for the guards.

Einnar and his colleagues bowed once more and took their prisoner's arm to pull her up from the chair, knowing she would not move until the Odinson was out of her sight.

~~~

Loki waited until the guards left her alone before crawling back to the dark corner she always stayed in until they forced her to face Thor once more.

She patiently waited for her body temperature to drop, no longer dreading the moment she would shift into Laufeysdóttir's form. Over the months she had learned that there were more benefits to that than she had initially thought. The corners of her mouth twitched a little when she no longer felt the cold. She was ready to start her training.

Loki closed her eyes and turned all her attention to her left hand. She thought of ice, cold, frozen ice. Dark caves with icicles hanging from the ceiling, the smooth surface of ice covering a lake. _Colder. Colder._

She could feel the cold, no, she was the cold. She was the ice princess, the Laufeysdóttir. _Colder. Colder._

A sudden vision of a frozen temple flashed before her eyes. _Laufeysdóttir._

Loki's eyes snapped open and she gasped for air, her expression one of terror and panic. It took her a few minutes to calm herself enough to finally look at her hand to see if she had succeeded this time.

Her palm was covered by a thick layer of ice.

Loki smiled, briefly looking like her old self again.

_Your prisons cannot hold me._


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!
> 
> I am so sorry for taking this long to update. I realize this chapter is ridiculously short, but it is really only just a reminder that I am still working on this story. A longer chapter is coming up, but it's not yet finished...
> 
> Edit: I only now realized that when I wrote this several months ago! I drafted it instead of posting. Fortunately I felt like doing some improving on the whole fic so it finally got posted anyway. A longer, proper chapter is on its way, although with college consuming so much of my time it might as well be another week. To anyone who's still reading this, thank you! A review would be much appreciated, but do not feel obligated.

It wasn't the same.

Seated in the large hall for the evening meal, Thor couldn't help but miss her. He missed having her sitting across from him, picking at her food while listening to whatever tale was being told and occasionally commenting on his huge appetite and (in her opinion) lack of manners.

“My lord, the king demands your presence,” a young guard suddenly spoke, looking a bit terrified to be speaking to the prince of Asgard.

Thor, however, either didn't notice it or didn't care. Probably the former. “Did he tell you where I am to meet him?”

Sheer panic could briefly be seen on the boy's face, this time so obvious that even Thor couldn't not notice it. “The courtyard, perhaps?” He suggested, hoping to ease the nerves of the guard.

It appeared to be effective, for the boy instantly relaxed. “Yes, my lord, the courtyard, at your earliest convenience.”

“You're dismissed,” Thor told him while standing up from the table. He marched towards the courtyard right away, realizing that whatever had to be discussed would be more important than hearing the end of Fandral's (slightly exaggerated) tale regarding the naiads.

~~~

"Father," Thor spoke by wise of a greeting. He did not bother to greet the other man, who appeared to be a prison guard, judging by his attire. "Is there a problem?"

"Tell him," the All-Father spoke, his words directed at Einnar, the guard, "What you just told me." 

It appeared to be common for guards to show nervosity when speaking to one of the royal family, for Einnar as well looked a bit concerned, though not much. "I fear our prisons cannot hold princess Loki any longer." If addressing the blue monster he saw in the dungeons every day as a princess felt ridiculous to him, he hid it well enough. "The enchantments that bind her magic require too much energy to sustain. More than we can afford. She is not our only prisoner with abilities that need to be suppressed..."

"What solution do you suggest?" Thor asked in response, brows furrowed as he processed the information. 

This was Odin's cue to take over the conversation. "There may be a solution, though it is not ideal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _To be continued_
> 
> Very soon, hopefully.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your patience and kind reviews! I'm really sorry for taking so long, but here it is :) I hope this chapter was worth the waiting.

She was making progress. It wasn't as much as she would have liked, but it was progress nonetheless. Loki's days consisted solely of attempting to make icicles, fainting from exhaustion, sleeping it off and starting over again. She barely touched the food the guards brought her, but she always accepted the cups of water they brought with it. Freezing the water was easier than creating ice out of thin air, after all.

She was huddled up in her corner, once again grateful for her choice in garments. The black dress helped her greatly with fading away in the shadows. It wasn't only her body that faded away though. Her personality, the woman she had once been was slowly disappearing as well, leaving nothing behind but the broken ghost of the Loki she used to be.

“Ahem.”

Loki turned to look at Einnar, knowing her monstrous appearance would sufficiently distract him while she placed the now-frozen cup of water into a small dent in the wall, hiding it from his view.

“The All-Father and All-Mother wish to visit you,”

Surprise could briefly been seen on her blue visage, but other than that Loki didn't react. Odin and Frigga hadn't visited her even once so far. Then again, apart from Thor's weekly visits nobody had.

“Excellent,” she told the guards, speaking for the first time in six months. Ignoring the startled look on each guard's face, Loki stood and walked over to the heavy door of her cell.

“Please make haste, Einnar. We would not want to keep them waiting, hm?”

She waited patiently for the guards to regain their composure, smiling just a little. When she was finally freed from the cage, Loki dutifully followed them, head held up high and an arrogant expression on her face. She fought to keep her Jotunn form, for the first time not looking forward to being herself again. If Odin and Frigga could justify locking her away like that, then Loki would make sure they saw exactly what effect it had on their adoptive daughter, their stolen relic.

Her smile grew larger when she caught her own reflection in a window near the visiting room. She had succeeded in keeping Laufeydóttir's blue skin and red eyes. She was growing stronger.

Loki failed to notice the tangled mess that had once been her beloved hair, or how thin she'd become. That didn't matter. At least, not to her.

And her new appearance had the effect she'd wished for. Frigga gasped in shock, an expression of both fear and concern could be seen on her face. Her mother had aged, Loki noticed. Not in the sense that she looked older, but Frigga did look... wiser, in a way. As if she had witnessed lots of horrors and was thus more experienced with life. And one of those horrors was currently standing in the same room. Blue skin, red eyes. Escaped directly from the scaretales each Aesir (and Vanir, for that matter) had been told since childhood.

As always, the guards knelt respectively for her visitors, while Loki just stood there. When Einnar took her arm in order to drag her towards the chair though, she slapped his hand away and all but growled that, “I am perfectly capable of walking, Einnar.”

She headed for the chair to prove her own statement and sat, patiently waiting for the guards to be dismissed and for her once-parents to speak.

“That would be all,” Odin spoke, at which the guards bowed their heads once more before departing. Not wasting any time on formalties or anything, the All-Father just stated his business.

“The conditions of your imprisonment will need to be changed. The guards have been informed, along with each citizen of Asgard. You shall continue your sentence elsewhere.”

Slowly, the trickster's blue skin faded back into its usual pale tone. Once she looked up, there was a new spark visible in her previously dull eyes.

“Now why is that, All-Father? Can your prison cell no longer hold me?” Her gaze swiftly moved back to Frigga, directing the second half of the longest monologue she'd held since returning to Asgard at the All-Mother. “Not that I am complaining, of course, but what would everyone think? The disgrace of the House of Odin, too strong to remain in the dungeons and thus sent away to be someone else's burden?”

“Do not disappoint us any more than you already have.”

Loki didn't even bother looking at him. Her gaze was focused on Frigga, whose lips briefly curled into a disapproving frown. Somehow the former princess knew that the disapproval was, for once, not directed at herself. Interesting.

“Are you challenging me?” The words were directed at Odin, yet her gaze remained on Frigga. The disapproval made place for a strange kind of sadness, one that Loki did not quite understand.

“No, Loki.” She tensed, her entire demeanor becoming even colder than it had been before. _No, Loki._ It required a great deal of effort to remain in her seat, to refrain from jumping up and lashing out despite knowing that it'd be pointless. “No one challenges you, no one other than yourself. I only warn you not to.”

“I am not exactly known for listening to warnings of any kind.”

Frigga sighed in exasperation. Odin's expression barely changed, except for the way his eyebrows furrowed just a little.

“Thank Frigga for this last chance. My original plan was to send you to Hel itself.” Loki snorted, all elegance long since forgotten about. She shook her head, a small smile on her lips. “Of all the places that you could-”

“QUIET.”

She immediately stopped talking, eyes widening for only a second before the regained her composure, the annoying little smirk returning to her features as if it had never been gone in the first place.

“Why, Allfather. I see you expanded your vocabulary with another word. Impressive. I do believe I favor your savage yelling over this newfound eloquence though.”

Another sigh, although it almost escaped her notice as Odin stood, slamming both palms onto the table before him with enough force to make the material dent in protest. The sound of it echoed through the room, and faint noises of swords being unsheathed sounded from the other side of the door, she noticed before Odin's loud voice demanded her attention again.

“You shall be brought to your new quarters by nightfall and upon arrival these will be your only companions.” With a loud thud he placed a pair of heavy-looking cuffs on the table before her, the metal covered with runic inscriptions of which she recognized a few at first glance. Few, but enough to know their purpose. Loki crossed her arms and leaned back into her chair, making sure to look as unimpressed as one can manage. “What if I refuse?”

“Loki Odinsdótttir,” Both Loki and Odin stopped staring at the other, averting their gazes towards Frigga. _I no longer listen to that name._ Something kept her from saying it, the same something that sometimes tightened her throat and made her gasp for air while her eyes stung as if they were too dry, but what was that sensation called? That form of sentiment? She no longer knew, but once she did, not so long ago. The sensation would have a name, a name more specific than just 'sentiment'. What was it called, for Helheim's sake? Her eyes were stinging again and she fought to control her breathing because both Odin and Frigga probably did know the name of this horrendous sentiment and Loki refused to find out because naming the sentiment would mean that she had to acknowledge it and thus acknowledge herself as weak. A shadow, stolen relic, spoil of war...

“Loki.”

The trickster's eyes focused again. Loki. Only Loki. Nothing more.

“There will be guards waiting by the door at all times, and you are to wear those restraints.” _At which door?_ Oh, if only she knew. “Since you shall continue your sentence in your private quarters, you shall in all probability receive visitors, though you are free to refuse them.”

 _Just as I was allowed to refuse Thor's visits?_   It was another thing that the sentiment kept her from saying. Could it be blamed on sentiment? Part of her thought that it was because of who was speaking to her. “When all weaponry is removed from your chambers, you will be brought there.”

Frigga's expression softened, and for a moment Loki did not see the Allmother, but just her mother. “Use this new freedom for something good and I will be able to let you to call yourself Loki Friggjardóttir and thus have a part of your honor restored.”

…

Loki didn't know how to respond. She genuinely did not know what to say. Insults were uncalled for. Enthusiasm was another sentiment that she no longer knew. Silence would suffice, she decided. Let them believe she was rendered speechless, which in fact she was. Loki nodded in acceptance, settling back into her chair. The conversation was over, all knew it. The king and queen rose from their seats, readying themselves to leave. The guards were called for, Odin left without looking back, Frigga lingered to place a hand on Loki's shoulder, one that the trickster did not shake off. The familiar touch felt -she really should not be subjected to so many forms of sentiment during one meeting- warm, she supposed. Warmth had become nothing but a distant dream, from a world where Laufeysdóttir did not exist. A world where Loki was a princess, and not a monstrous prisoner. 

Frigga removed her hand all too soon and left too, leaving Loki with the guards, who wasted no time on small talk or waiting for her to recover. The lingering sensation of the warm hand on her shoulder was replaced by a rough, gloved hand gripping her arm and forcefully dragging her to her feet. She tolerated it, as usual, not bothering to speak to any of them.

When back in the cold, empty cell Loki waited for the sound of the guards' heavy boots against the stone floor to fade into hollow echoes until she retreated to her corner and curled up, waiting for the moment where the cold would no longer bother her.

Within minutes (Or hours, she could not tell) she was wearing Laufeydóttir's form again and that blasted sentiment returned and there was nothing she could do against it, nothing at all other than wrapping her arms around her legs and trying to fight the shaking but it was of no avail because it just would not stop and her eyes were stinging and-

The frozen cup that once contained water was no longer the only frozen thing in the room. The cold stone floor beneath her and the bricks behind her had become covered by a thin layer of ice as well, but Loki failed to notice. It toke her several more minutes -or hours- to notice, and by then the shaking has stopped and instead there was a single tear rolling down the ridges of her blue cheek.

_My honor is long gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well first of all I hope you guys liked this chapter! Let's hope that writing the next one won't take this long :)
> 
> I'd really appreciate some feedback at this point. I find it difficult to write any character that isn't Loki so if there is something that I could do better, please let me know. The same applies to Loki though. If there is anything that I can improve, please don't hesitate to tell me!


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Naturally, nothing concerning the royal family remains a secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh wow, two updates in a week! I know, right. I was going to write the moving scene (which I will say nothing about because mayor plot business happening and all that jazz) but somehow it turned into a bit of Sigyn POV. I'm not sure how it turned, since I barely know anything about Sigyn, other than what I've read in the myths and seen on tumblr. Thoughts?
> 
> Note: I'm going with the "Nidavellir dwarves are like the dwarves from LOTR" headcanon. I thought it was worth mentioning.

It was a lovely day. At last the snow had ceased to fall, just in time for the upcoming Thurseblot feast. It was cool outside, but not as cold as it had been the previous month, and most of the citizens had gone outside to enjoy this nicer weather. She had seen them from the window of her small workplace. She could hear laughter and enthousiastic chattering through the same window, and she'd smiled, looking forward to Thurseblot and spring just as much as the others did.

Everyone was outside, making purchases for Thurseblot, so naturally Sigyn was inside, working hard to create the most stunning dresses for the ladies of the court who loyally purchased all festive attire from her little tailorshop. She had made haste with breakfast, swiftly eating a few slices of bread with honey and almost burning her mouth on the tea, eager to go back to work. However, only seconds after she took the skirt that she was sewing out of the cabinet that she kept unfinished clothing in and sat down with it, someone knocked the door to the workplace twice and walked in before Sigyn had the chance to respond.

“Have you heard the news? They will be relocating the princess. Heimdall himself has been called to rid her chambers of all weaponry.” Lorelei's cheeks were flushed, as if she had ran all the way to the market to share the news, even though her breathing was slow and steady. Maybe her sister had finally taught her one of her own tricks regarding transportation. Sigyn didn't know, nor did she care. Lorelei's unannounced visits were far from uncommon.

“Good for her.” She turned, picking up the needle and thread that she had been about to start sewing through the delicate fabrics in her hand.

Restraints are being forged as we speak. Apparently Aevarr of the Vanir gifted the materials needed, and..." Lorelei's words seem to blend together into an incoherent rambling as Sigyn returned to her work, only to look up seconds later. 

“She will not-” The woman caught her tongue and opted to finish her sentence differently. “-agree to such a thing. She loathes constant supervision.” She will not allow the guards to actually attach those restraints. Loki will have thought of a way to escape by the time the guards have finished searching the princess' chambers for weapons. “Is there anything else you wished to tell me, Lorelei? I'm afraid I promised Freya that this gown would be finished before Thurseblot.”

“Oh, you are no fun at all. Have you seen Svanhilde, by any chance?” Sigyn suppressed the urge to roll her eyes -a habit she had taken over from Loki- upon seeing Lorelei's cheerful expression that definitely did not match the news that she was currently spreading. “I believe she is at the market, selling soup and such. Do me a favor and tell her that she will need to provide me with more fabric for the dress that she asked for.”

She pulled the corners of her mouth up into a smile, another thing that Loki had taught her. Smiling without sincerity. Sigyn had not expected to ever use the skill. Lorelei bid her farewell, and rushed away towards the market, off to tell her story to whoever might be willing to listen.

With a sigh she continued to sew, determined to have at least the skirt of the dress finished that day. The dress Freya had requested was a rather lovely shade of pink with soft green accents, the skirt shaped like a tulip to symbolize the upcoming spring. It would be one of the better dresses at the celebration, fitting the occasion and Freya's personal tastes in clothing. It was the first time she'd been working with green fabrics since that fateful night. The night where her best customer, the customer who was the reason why she had an entire cabinet filled with green fabrics, had very abruptly ended their friendship.

Sigyn briefly closed her eyes, memories of that night flooding her mind.

* * *

 

“ _DO NOT TOUCH ME.”_

_The words were familiar. Loki had directed them at her before, but never so loud, never with this much force. Sigyn lowered her arms and stepped back, startled by the raw emotion in Loki's voice. It was almost unique, this glimpse at what was really going on inside her head. Loki's hands were curled into fists, her nails digging into her palms. Sigyn watched as her best friend raged, pacing through the room and visibly struggling with something. “Loki, I-”_

“ _LEAVE ME ALONE.”_

_There was damage everywhere. The windows had shattered to pieces, vases were broken, furniture was overthrown. It looked like a warzone, like thieves had searched it for anything of value, like a storm had raged inside. She had once heard someone describing Loki as a woman who was as unpredictable as the weather. One moment she would be all calm and composed, but then the tides would turn and she would do something incredibly stupid and disastrous. No one ever knew why Loki did the things that she did. Why would she abduct Idunn and bring her to a giant? Why would she drink herself into oblivion at a feast and insult everyone in sight? Loki claimed that she did everything she did for a reason, but often no reason could be found, and the trickster could be very stubborn in her refusal to tell even Sigyn why she had done something._

“ _I am not leaving when you are in such a state, Loki.” She took another step forward, slowly so as to not startle the hysterical woman. “You do not have to tell me what has happened. All I ask is that you let me stay.” Loki sped up, pacing even faster, the heels of her shoes crushing the glass shards on the floor. The room felt static, and Sigyn could tell that Loki was doing that, although she probably did not do it on purpose. If she was the weather, then right now she would be a thunderstorm, pressure having built up to the point of becoming too much, and eventually all hell would break loose._

“ _I promise that you will not have to tell me anything unless you want to.” Another step, and another. “That's what friends are for.” Loki appeared to calm a bit, shaking and trembling as she tried to keep her temper in check. Sigyn took it as a sign that her friend was approachable again, and gently placed a hand on her shoulder._

_There was a reason why she was a seamstress and not a predictor of the weather. Was there not something known as the calm before the storm? Sigyn now understood the term._

_Loki whirled around, recoiling from the hand as if it burned her. Her breathing sped up again, and now that her face was no longer shrouded by the long black hair that she rarely wore loose, it was obvious that she had been crying, that she still was. “NO!” Suddenly Loki's hands were no longer fists and instead they were holding a vase that had miraculously survived the previous round of destruction, only to be hurled at the opposite wall with enough force to dent the wall and break the vase. “Leave me alone, Sigyn,” Loki snapped, no longer screaming but still speaking louder than usual. “Leave, for Hel's sake. I do not want you here, how difficult is that to understand?”_

_Sigyn had stood her ground during the screaming but started to step back now. Something had changed in Loki's expression, raw emotion now making place for a mask of cold determination. “I never did. I only tolerate you because of your skills regarding fashion. Did you honestly expect us to be friends? As if a princess, heir to the throne, could ever befriend a lowly civilian. Get out of my sight, Sigyn.”_

_The words struck like lightning. She had also heard these insults before, but in the form of theories, and never from Loki's mouth. It was Lorelei who questioned Loki's friendship. Lorelei, who would simply create subjects to gossip about herself when there were none available. She had not believed it back then, but the doubt remained._

“ _You did not really think you were worthy of my friendship, did you? You are nothing but a servant, and you will never be anything more than that. Nothing but a pathetic, whining peasant whom is only accepted because of her craft, and even_ that _would not help you if Lorelei was to hear about your heritage.”_

_The lightning had struck, but the storm raged on, raindrops rolling down her cheeks and making her entire body feel cold, so cold. It was something she had told Loki in confidence, when they were eating apples that Loki had stolen from Idunn by the river. Loki had been as kind and accepting as she knew to be, and had simply shrugged and taken another apple while any other lady of the court would have looked disgusted and rushed away to spread the rumor. The respected lady Sigyn, tailor for the royal family, who was not even fully Aesir, with the blood of the dwarves of Nidavellir mixed with that of an Aesir running through her veins. A dwarf, of all creatures._

_If Loki was resorting to such cruelty, then it could really only be truth. Sigyn blinked away her tears, determined to remain strong until she was back at her modest house in the village. There were so many things that she could say, that she wanted to say in return. “At least I do have plenty of friends, despite of my heritage,_ princess. _Even with your status of royalty you are ridiculously incapable of making any.” She turned around and marched away as swiftly as she could, fighting her tears. As she slammed Loki's door shut and ran through the hall, away from her best friend's chambers, she could hear Loki shriek in what she assumed to be rage and destroy even more of her belongings but it mattered not._

_All that mattered was to get home as soon as possible._

* * *

 

She opened her eyes again, wiping the single tear that had escaped through her eyelids away with the sleeve of her own dress, a rather plain, cream-colored gown that looked ridiculously cheap and plain in comparison to the gowns that she made for those who could afford them. It had been almost three years ago. She had cried for a few hours, realized that the way she reacted to Loki's insults was just as pathetic as her friend had told her, cried some more and then fell asleep. When she woke she forced herself to get up, bathe, go to the workplace like nothing had happened. Lorelei had stormed in again, announcing that the King had fallen into an unexpected Odinsleep and that princess Loki was on the throne, since prince Thor was still banished. Lorelei had been unstoppable, had rambled on and on about every single detail, while Sigyn really only heard one thing. Loki, being the temporary queen of Asgard. She could imagine it all too clearly, Loki, sitting on the throne with the expression of feigned interest that she always wore when incredibly bored. She probably wore one of the green gowns that Sigyn had made for her.

She had angrily continued her work, thinking that Loki could suffocate in her stupid green dress for all she cared.

Several days later, Loki was dead.

Freya had told her, and not Lorelei, for once. Sigyn had thanked the woman for bringing her the news and kindly asked her to leave. She didn't cry. She didn't mourn. It was not until she attended the feast held in Loki's honor that she finally broke down and cried until she did not have a single tear left to weep.

And then, she had moved on.

Two years later, Thor was sent to Midgard. When he returned he had Loki with him, wearing a muzzle and chains and looking more savage than she ever had before. Sigyn had not been sure what she wanted to do, to cry, to ignore all etiquette and run towards the couple to hug Loki, or to hit her with all the force that she could manage. Possibly the three of those combined.

Loki had attempted to look arrogant, but the expression was not quite right, not with the fear and confusion in her eyes, and before Sigyn knew it she was out of sight again, inside of the palace to hear what punishment she would receive for whatever crime that it was that she had committed on Midgard.

Prison. Loss of her status as royalty. A week later new rumors spread through the city like wildfire. The princess had been a monster all along.

_Nothing would help if they were to hear of your heritage._

Sigyn let out another frustrated sigh. She put down the gown and stood, walking over to the window to look at the other citizens rushing through the streets. Loki had not been allowed to receive visitors, she'd heard. _Had_ being the keyword. Had not been, _had_ not been...

Her eyes were no longer seeing the streets. Her mind was no longer set on working on the gowns all day.

When Sigyn's eyes focused again she was standing by the door, her left hand curled around the knob. She paused, briefly reconsidering her plan before taking a deep breath, turning the knob and making her way towards the palace. 

_That's what friends are for._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, remember that leaving a comment or kudos will only make me update sooner :) Please let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, I am working on the main plot and was wondering, should I add a ship eventually? Thus far the choices consist of Logyn, Tasertricks or Ironfrost. Maybe LL/Steve. Possibly none at all. If you have a preference, let me know!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aw yiss, an update! I'm sorry it's not as much as you might be hoping for, but I really wanted to post at least something before starting on the conversation between Loki and Sigyn.

A queen should not be stalking others, observing from a distance and silently following them as they walked further, but there were so many things a queen should not do. She should not weep about what had become of Loki, should not be considering to disobey to her husband's orders to refrain from visiting, should not travel to Midgard in disguise to visit the mortal woman Thor appeared to fancy. There were so many things a queen should not do, and honestly, it was tiring at times.

After all, it was hardly her fault that the lady Sigyn had chosen that moment to try and negotiate with the Einherjar that guarded the entrance to the dungeons.

Once, many centuries ago, she had caught Loki hugging the girl, voluntarily, eyes closed and a smile gracing those thin lips. Some prophecies came true, yet she could only hope that others would not. It was her duty, among others, to weave the future into tapestries and such, though never did she share what she saw. The threads and materials she used to weave Loki's tapestry would cross the ones she used for Sigyn's, quite a few times, but there had come a point where the threads separated abruptly, and from that point, Loki's tapestry would only become darker and darker and from there she had not dared to weave any further, had cast the tapestry aside, locked it into a cabinet and began to create a different one, one for Hildegund, a daughter of Volstagg but even as she weaved a new tapestry with bright colors and beautiful patterns, the sight of the now-hidden black threads continued to haunt her.

However, if there was one thing she had learnt about the future, it was that it was impossible to predict. There were so many possible futures, all depending on decisions, both small and large, and thus there was an infinite amount of possible futures. Loki's prediction may have been accurate thus far, but was it too late to prevent the horrible, dark future that still lied ahead?

One would never know without trying. Silently, Frigga continued to follow Sigyn, ensuring to keep her distance so that none would notice her presence.

* * *

 

Never would he have expected his job to become this _boring._ Upon hearing terms such as “guarding” and “warrior”, one would expect to see lots of action, to defeat mighty foes and thoroughly celebrate victories, yet the only victory he has had thus far was having won a verbal confrontation with princess Loki. He was not even sure if that could be considered a verbal confrontation, given the fact that he was the only one who spoke. She had merely stared at him with those red eyes, not saying a single word the entire time. He'd caught her rolling her eyes when she assumed he had left, but that was all.

Instead of defeating mighty foes, it was his duty to guard servants while they brought food to the princess. Instead of seeing lots of action, his days consisted of standing guard by the door to the dungeons, patrolling said dungeons and occasionally dragging an unkempt prisoner towards a visiting room.

He sighed, moving his golden spear to his other hand and watching the light reflect from the weapon's head.

“Ahem.”

Einnar turned upon hearing someone clear their throat. Before him stood a woman, and a familiar one at that. The lady Sigyn, if he was not mistaken. She was small, by Aesir standards, barely reaching his chin. She cleared her throat again, a somewhat arrogant expression gracing her features.

“I wish to see the prisoner.”

Lady Sigyn, friend of princess Loki. Former friend, former princess. A seamstress too, he remembered. Finna had mentioned her a few times, over dinner. His expression softened, and he nodded in greeting.

“The prisoner is not allowed to receive visitors, milady.”

“Oh, but surely you can make an exception for a friend of hers.” There was something unsettling about the girl's expression, determination, as he had only seen on one other face before. A blue face, to be exact. He swallowed, readjusted his grip on the spear, and opened his mouth to reply.

“I'm afraid not. The king's orders were-”

Frigga chose that moment to make her presence known, emerging from the shadows and approaching the two with practiced grace. “The king's orders are surely flexible enough to allow the queen to alter them, no?”

She watched as the young guard immediately knelt, followed moments later by the lady Sigyn, though both looked mildly confused. Frigga smiled, gently, nodding her own head in acknowledgement, a rare gesture from one with a status as high as hers. “Please, rise, both of you.” As the two stood, Sigyn appearing to be uncomfortable for one reason or another, her gaze moved to meet that of the guard. She did recognize him, though his name she knew not. There were many Einherjar assigned to guard the dungeons now that Loki lived in there, too many for her to remember them all by name.

“The princess shall be transferred to her chambers later this day, and I am certain we all agree that it is wise to distract her until then.” It was left unspoken that Loki was in all probability busy plotting ways to escape or at least attempt to do so during said transfer. Imprisonment had never agreed with her, but sadly quite a few of her actions had forced Odin to send her just there. Her most recent actions, however, could those be forgiven? Frigga hoped, always hoped, that they could, that color could be brought back into the tapestry of Loki's future, but she was not daft; she realized full well that there was a long way to go until such a thing could be accomplished but surely, reuniting Loki with the person who had once brought color to her life could do no harm?

“I-” One sound, yet already Frigga could hear the nerves in the man's voice, which made her choose to interrupt. “Should the king not agree, then the blame will be for me. You shall not be held responsible for the consequences, should any follow,” she reassured him, taking a guess as to what made him reluctant.

“As you wish, your majesty.” A nod in the guard's direction, and a smile directed at Sigyn. “There you go, dear. Please send her my kindest regards.” With that she turned, leaving the two behind though lingering around the corner.

And there she stayed, until the sound of keys turning a lock and opening a heavy door could be heard, and the sound of footsteps walking down the staircase slowly faded.

It was all she could do for Loki, at least for now.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, thanks for reading, and don't hesitate to leave me a kuddo or a comment because emails notifying me of either one of those are the single best reminders to keep writing :)
> 
> Also, as mentioned before, I am considering to add a ship to this story eventually. The options are Tasertricks, Frostiron, Logyn or none at all because Lowkey is a strong independent troublemaker who needs no (wo)man. Other ideas for ships are also welcome, of course.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! Thanks to everyone for leaving kudos. There's nothing motivating like getting an email notif about receiving kudos. As promised, here is another look into Loki's twisted little mind, and also her reunion with Sigyn.
> 
> Oy, this chapter was brought to you by ReVamp's brilliant album Wild Card. It's the perfect music to write to, 10/10 would recommend.

Sentiment was the key.

Detachment was what kept her sane, as sane as she could be under these circumstances. It had worked for her, had kept her calm even when Thor visited and even more so when her skin would change colors to become that of a monster. Others might have tried to fight it, to find meaning in their existence, to think of something, _anything_ , to make the days more bearable, but when did she ever do or feel things the same way as other people did? Detachment allowed her to stare at the same brick for hours without growing bored, and when she could no longer bear the sight of it, her gaze would move to another brick. Day in, day out, brick by boring brick.

Detachment kept her alive, but sentiment was the key to –she almost dared not think of it, afraid it might turn out to be an illusion- freedom. Sentiment had made her freeze the walls and floor surrounding her without a second thought, while detachment only let her freeze small bits of water, and only after hours of concentration.

She usually preferred to pace while thinking, or to occupy herself with a mindless task. The best ideas were created through exhaustion of both the mind and body, but she simply could not afford to exhaust herself to that point. Was it day or was it night? Did she have another day, or mere hours? She would need her energy during the transfer, for what was the point of a brilliant solution when she would not have the energy to actually use it? So, she remained where she was, seated in her frozen corner. Ice made for an excellent chair, it appeared. The only drawbacks of ice she could think of were the cold, and perhaps the fact that the body temperature of the average person tended to make it melt, two drawbacks that no longer applied to her, at least not when in this form, and-

If anything, her inability to focus was frustrating.

She knew what had to be done, _knew_ where to find the key. Sentiment. She took a deep breath of cold air, eyes closed and head leaned back against the patch of ice that already matched the shape of her head by then. Sentiment. Facing her worst enemy, embracing it, allowing it to take over control.

It really did sound easier than it was.

Another breath, inhale, exhale, repeat. A shiver ran down her spine for reasons other than the cold and she closed her eyes in order to focus. Inhale, exhale.

She allowed herself to think, to break down the carefully constructed walls of detachment that kept her in control of the sentiment. Memories of Frigga, too painful, accompanied by too much sorrow for her to cope with. Memories of Odin, too full of _rage_ , memories of Thor, accompanied by so many forms of nameless sentiments that it overwhelmed her, memories of _Sigyn_ , who was a friend, perhaps even more, until _she_ had to go and ruin it all. Sweet Sigyn who accepted her as she was, who never attempted to change her. Sweet Sigyn, whom she could trust, and who also trusted her in return. Sweet Sigyn, who had told her her greatest secret, which _she_ ultimately used as a weapon to chase her dearest friend away from her.

 Inhale, exhale, repeat.

_Teleportation took her to her bedchambers, not her own legs, she didn’t trust them to carry her weight, didn’t trust herself not to lose control. She was standing in the middle of the large chambers, facing the window with the most breathtaking view. Bedchambers worthy of a princess, but of a monster? She does not deserve to be here, does not deserve to be worshiped by the mortals, does not deserve the recognition her title brings her, the stolen relic, the spoil of war-_

Inhale. That night she would be returned to her bedchambers, to be kept a prisoner in the chambers that used to be her sanctuary. Exhale. Would someone have tidied it? Would the windows be replaced, the broken furniture repaired? Repeat.

_She was shaking, shivering, feeling cold, so cold. She practically stormed towards the chamber that held her garments, unsteady hands blindly searched through all the coats she owned, throwing those that she did not want onto the floor until her hands closed around the collar of her thickest fur coat and with it she ran out of the chamber, unable to look at all the stunning gowns it held. On Jotunheimr they wear nothing but simple loincloths. Why wear more than decency requires when one cannot be bothered by the cold? She does not deserve this chamber full of dresses, does not deserve the whole team of tailors and seamstresses who happily create whichever garment she wants, does not deserve to wear the gorgeous dresses that make every other woman envy her, the disgrace, the pawn in a political game of chess-_

The cold felt stronger then, spread from her heart to her fingertips and to her toes. She could feel it within her, just like she used to be able to feel her magic before she had been thrown into this cage. Devices enchanted by Odin himself were placed all through the dungeons to keep that under control, to keep Loki from violently breaking free or teleporting herself away. The ice, however, no one could control.

_She tried to properly put the coat on but her shaking hands couldn’t do it so she simply wrapped the coat around her like a cloak. Loki fell onto her knees, curled up, pulled the hood of the coat over her head. The shaking wouldn’t stop. The cold wouldn’t leave her, even though she was sweating within seconds, the coat simply too warm to be worn anywhere but on Jotunheimr itself but on the inside she still felt cold. Or was this how she was meant to feel, frozen inside? She should let the cold consume her, should run away, far away from Asgard and all that she is unworthy of, run away from the lies and embrace the truth, harsh as it may be, for that is what she deserves, what every princess of Jotunheimr deserves, what every citizen of that realm deserves, monsters that they are, and-_

_Seconds turned into minutes, minutes turned into what felt like hours. Her hair began to stick to her skin, drops of sweat rolled down her face. The heat radiating from her body only made the coat warmer and soon enough she felt as if it was trying to suffocate her but she could not let go of it just yet, she needed the warmth, needed it to thaw the ice that had formed inside her body the moment Odin confirmed her suspicions, she is indeed a monster, Thor is not her brother, her entire life is a lie and oh, isn’t it ironic, how the goddess of lies herself turns out to have lived a false life full of deceit._

_She rose from the floor, dropped her coat, restless, began to pace through the room instead. Windows shattered with every thought that passed her mind, books and trinkets somehow made their way into her hands and then against the walls but she could not remember picking them up or throwing them away. What is to become of her now? Thor, banished because of her, because when is something not her fault? Odin, fallen into the Odinsleep, bound to remain unconscious for at least a few more days. He is not her father, does not even care for her, only ever tolerated her so that he might, one blessed day, send her off to marry a prince of another realm because why settle for ruling Asgard when he can have his stolen relic be the queen of Jotunheimr whilst wedded to the king of, for example, Niflheimr?_

Inhale. What came next? Exhale, she thought, but her body had different ideas and chose to draw in more and more air, greedily drawing in the air as if she was indeed suffocating. Exhale, exhale, she opened her eyes long enough to try and calm her own breathing but then shut them again. Sentiment was the key, and she would need to suffer through more of it in order to freeze her way out of this cage.

_“Loki?”_

_She looked up, bewildered, dropped the perfume bottle that she had been holding. The scent of spring flowers filled the room, assaulted her senses with its intensity but it was not her main concern._

_Sweet Sigyn, reaching out to touch her shoulder but swiftly drawing back her hands upon hearing the screaming that sounded through the room. Did she make that sound? Was that her voice, that horribly broken screeching?_

_“Loki, I-“_

_“LEAVE ME ALONE.” Yes, the sounds were coming from her mouth. The room was spinning, her vision had become blurry, and she could feel the magic and adrenalin surging through her veins. She was afraid, terrified, lost, so lost. She could hear someone –Sigyn talking but the words did not properly register into her mind. Leaving, state, Loki, her name. Is it even her name? Is Loki what they call her on Jotunheimr, or didn’t they bother to name her before leaving her in that temple? Is anything about her real, anything at all?_

_“That’s what friends are for.”_

_Sigyn. Sigyn is not a lie. Sigyn is her sun, is her counterpart when it comes to sincerity. Sigyn is_ real _. That was something she could hold on to, a truth to ground her, to calm her enough to tell Sigyn that she needs to be alone, or maybe, just maybe, to tell her she can stay but not ask for anything, just to promise that she will still accept Loki, no matter what she turns out to be-_

_Oh, but then there was a weight on her shoulder, a soft, warm hand and she couldn’t help but hiss like the monster that she was and recoil from it and the anchor that held her back was gone. She yelled, she snapped, she destroyed, said things she’d forgotten, or had she forgotten them because she couldn’t live with what she’d said?_

Her eyes were burning again, caused by sentiment, without a doubt, but she still did not know the name, nor could she focus on figuring out what name belonged to it because the room needed to be colder and colder. She did not notice the soft sound of heeled shoes clicking away against the tiles, coming closer and closer towards her cell.

_Finally, Sigyn had left, after delivering one last retort, two sentences that cut through her like steal and made her continue her mindless rampage and meanwhile the cuts left by Sigyn’s comment hardened the ice within her. She’d fallen asleep in the middle of the shattered remains of her belongings and when she woke, she took a bath, dressed in a beautiful gown and left the safety of her chambers._

Her eyes opened again and her hand reached for her cheek, briefly freezing when she felt the ridges on the once-smooth skin before moving to rub her right eye. It still burned, made her vision blurry, but she forced herself to look past it and see just how much ice she’d managed to create. She was not disappointed. The ice around her was the thickest, of course, but it had spread all through the room, there were even a few icicles hanging from the ceiling. Perhaps she could summon more of those, to use as a weapon. Perhaps she could freeze the metal bars that kept her locked inside the dungeons and try and punch them out of her way, just like Thor might have done. Her gaze moved to focus on the steel bars, she even rose from the floor so that she could properly examine them, but examining would never take place because _someone_ was standing right behind them, on the other side.

 “Loki.”

Silence. Inhale, a sharp gasp, accompanied by red eyes that widened in shock.

“I- Lorelei told me you are moving to your chambers tonight.”

“She-she also mentioned that you would be allowed to receive visitors.”

Where was her voice? She could not find it, and even if she could, what could she possibly say? Loki was rarely left speechless, rarely knew not what to say. “… _and even_ that _would not help you if Lorelei was to hear about your heritage.”_ She remembered again, remembered what she said, and couldn’t help but cringe. Those were the words that left her lips, and she never took back what she said. Never.

“Perhaps I could visit one day, if you want me to, of course…”

Silence. Red eyes continued to stare into Sigyn’s, a lovely shade of blue that she used to enjoy staring into, a life ago, before she turned out to be a monster. They look different too, those blue eyes. They used to be kind, filled with compassion and love, but then, all she could see was fear, uncertainty. She should speak, say something, anything.

“I- I suppose I’ll  leave you by yourself then…” Sigyn’s voice trailed off, uncertain again, a perfect match with her facial expression. She turned around, to leave, looked over her shoulder one more time before she began to walk, too late to see Loki’s blue face to pale, to see those red eyes widen again, in fear, one of the few sentiments that Loki could still name these days. Right before Sigyn disappeared from her view, she opened her mouth, found her voice again, and finally spoke.

“Wait.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what do you think? Leave me a comment and let me know! I'm still considering to add a ship to this story eventually, but it's mostly up to you to decide! Choices consist of Logyn, Tasertricks, Frostiron and maaaaybe Stoki. Or suggest a different ship to me, I'll consider anything except for Thorki.
> 
> Or just leave me some kudos, those are great too :) The next chapter should be up soon, and it's probably going to be written from Loki's POV again. Anyway, thanks for reading!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know I should try and update more frequently. As always, my apologies for taking so long but behold: the newest chapter :)

_“Wait.”_

* * *

Now what?

 _I deeply regret what I’ve said to you. I did not mean any of it._ No. Such sincerity would only be considered a lie. It is her curse, to be incapable of seeming sincere even, especially when speaking the truth. All believe her lies, none believe her truths, except for Frigga, and Sigyn, and the latter no longer does, as proven the other night. Other than that, the times she had been able to fool Sigyn could be counted on one hand.

 _I wish we could forget what happened that night._ Could she? Could she forget what had happened? Could she forget what she was, what she’d done, how she chased the most important person away? Was there actually anything that she could say without lying or making it seem as if she were? Sigyn had turned around, had taken several steps back towards the cell, and was now waiting for an answer, looking so hopeful it almost hurt Loki to look at her. Once upon a time, in another life, she’d tried to teach Sigyn how to be insincere, and when she claimed not to want to learn that, Loki had tried to at least teach her how to mask her feelings, shield them for the cold and cruel world where people like _her_ might try to take those feelings and **crush** them.

“I…” Well? “Who sent you here?" Of all the things she could ask…

She stepped forward, closer to the bars that separated her from, well, freedom, failing to notice the thin trail of ice that she left behind, even now that her initial breakdown was over. It appeared on the steel bars as well, first a thin frozen layer and then actual ice as she wrapped her right hand around one. From where she now stood she could see Sigyn taking another step back towards the cell, seemingly uncertain.

“Is that truly the first thing that would cross your mind?”

Inhale, followed by a sigh that chilled the air around her even more. “Well, not necessarily…” The corners of her mouth twitched slightly as Sigyn came closer, the beginnings of the first sincere smile to grace her features since she realized what she was.

“Then what is?”

“Does it matter?” It does. It matters, even telling such an important little thing. It could be the beginning of repairing the once-strong bond she shared with Sigyn, but can it even be repaired? The last time she lied, it was about why she spent so much time with Amora. Rumors had already spread in Asgard, rumors about the princess being the female embodiment of _ergi_ , and her not-quite-friendship with Amora had done little to clear her reputation. She initially refused to tell Sigyn what it was that she did, fearing that her friend wouldn’t approve of the ancient and dangerous magic she studied with Amora, blissfully unaware of what everyone else thought the two did instead. It had resulted in an argument, which had ended in Sigyn avoiding the palace, and in Loki sulking and causing twice as much trouble as usual until she overheard those rumors, and finally realized why it was that Sigyn was cross with her. It had taken nearly a century for her to finally tell the truth to Sigyn, and another century for their relationship to return to what it used to be. Something told her that what she had done this time would not be forgotten so easily.

Loki sighed, a look of mild annoyance briefly crossing her features as the action chilled the air again. She lowered her gaze, opting to look at something else, the crack in the wall she so often stared at, but then forced herself to look Sigyn in the eyes again. In a different life she was a goddess, of trickery, but also of deceit. She should know better than to look away when speaking the truth.

“The first thing to cross my mind would be yet another question; why? Do you not remember what I’ve said to you?” _Please, don’t._

She watched as Sigyn’s smile fell and failed to watch the ice that continued to materialize where her hand held the steel bar.

"You did not mean any of that." It sounded more like a question than a statement. Loki knew she would need to confirm it, to tell Sigyn that no, of course she had meant none of it. Then why couldn't she?

It felt familiar, in a way. Once, so long ago, the situation had been the same. Loki, behind bars, and the ever-loyal Sigyn visiting her. The other would bring her food, warm clothes from her chambers, and sometimes even the key to the cell that Loki was in, given to her by queen Frigga herself. She would escape from her cell and immediately travel towards her friend's place of dwelling and suggest that they could do it, run far away from Asgard and never look back. They could be together, without anyone saying what either of them had to do. No more dress fittings, dances with possible suitors, endless feasts that she did not care for. No more etiquette, no more rules that restricted her every movement. She would know freedom, at last.

They would lounge on the couch together, or on Sigyn's bed (despite of Loki's never-ending complaints about the quality of the mattress) and enjoy the silence together, until Loki chose to end it. She would monologue, as she was always prone to do when not interrupted. No one would find them on Alfheim. They could build a house by the lake and befriend the naiads. She already knew quite a few of them, and it would not be difficult to be accepted into their midst. After a few centuries, the guards would stop searching for Asgard's wayward princess, and they would be able to explore more of the realm, but surely, by then they would no longer want to. Sigyn, we could do it. We could finally be happy, and-

Sigyn would turn and place a finger over Loki's lips in order to shush her. Think of queen Frigga, Loki. She would be devastated. And what of Thor? The oaf cares more for you than he could ever admit, and imagine what is to become of the realm without you by his side to guide him and to offer council? The nine realms need their princess, and your family needs you. We can be happy here as well, can't we? Aren't we?

Loki would say something vaguely confirmative and sigh. The silence would return, but their little moment would be ruined. Loki would get up and make an excuse to leave. During her time in prison she had been unable to visit the library, Sigyn, and her chambermaids had yet to be informed of her return. And Sigyn would nod, understanding, and it mattered not, for she had gowns to work on, it was almost Yule after all.

And now, now the situation was entirely different, but then again, was it really? Her imprisonment might be permanent (or as permanent as anything could be for someone like her) but the actions that had put her there were hardly that different from what usually got her sent to prison. She would do something incredibly stupid, or brilliant, depending how much of her reasoning one knew, and Odin would see no solution other than to send her to the dungeons for a few days, weeks, or on one memorable time, several months. The public demanded it. Crimes such as hers could not go without punishment. But this time? Imprisonment was the result of her failure, and never had it been before.

She _always_ succeeded.

The silence was not comfortable this time, but she chose to ignore that, chose to skip the monologue and simply turn her blood-red eyes up to stare into Sigyn's so that Sigyn could see the hope, and the sincerity in them as Loki extended her blue hand towards her, the gaps between the bars just large enough to let her do so.

"It is not too late. We could do it, Sigyn. We should, especially now. No one would miss me any longer, we could run away to Alfheim, and-"

" _No_."

The sound was loud and sharp, startling Loki into pulling back her hand and accidentally hitting one of the bars with it in the process. Shards of ice would fall from it, along with pieces of what was supposedly Asgard's strongest metal, but neither saw it.

"They might not miss you any longer, but you are forgetting that you are not alone. I would be missed, Loki. I've changed. You made perfectly clear what you've thought of me, you-" Sigyn took a deep, shaky breath, tears vaguely visible in her eyes, "You _died_ , and I..."

Never had either heard a silence louder than the silence that followed. Another deep breath, followed by the statement that would freeze Loki's cold heart to the point of no return.

"I've moved on."

By the time Sigyn reached the stairs that led out of the dungeons, the tears were rolling down her cheeks. By the time she reached for the heavy door at the end, a loud scream of what she assumed to be rage sounded echoed through the hall, almost drowning out the sound of destruction. Sigyn dried her tears with the sleeve of her gown, twisted her features into the a more neutral expression like Loki had taught her to, and knocked to let Einnar know that she had spent enough time with Loki, for now, or as she saw it then, for the rest of eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just saying, the great escape is coming soon. You know the drill, leave me kudos or a comment to keep me motivated :) also, friendly reminder to please let me know which ship, if any, you would like to see in this story. Choices consist of Logyn, FrostIron and Tasertricks, but I'm open to other suggestions.


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